Jars of Clay by Lee Strauss Page B

fear as he assessed her. Had the gods given him the ability to read minds? Did he know her thoughts? Even though she had determined not to see Lucius again, try as she might, she was plagued with endless thoughts of him.
    She must not show her fear. She straightened her back and took a step to the table that her father had purchased for her mother, back when Marcellus was still alive. Had it really been that long ago?
    She ran her fingers along the cool tiles of the table’s mosaic image. In the center was a large skull hanging from a straight plumb line attached to the top point of a level scale. On one side of the scale hung the accoutrements of the wealthy. On the other side, the poor. The rich man was represented by the mantle of royal purple and the scepter of an emperor. The poor man was depicted by a wander’s staff, cloak and pouch.
    “Death is the great leveler,” said Gordian. “Rich and poor, young and old, all are made equal by death.”
    “Too bad we must wait for death before we are granted equality,” Helena said.
    Before Gordian could offer his rebuttal Helena turned her back on him. Cassius and Brutus had entered the room.
    “Father!” she said warmly, greeting him with a kiss. His presence comforted her; she was safe from Gordian’s probing questions as long as Brutus was there.
    Cassius sat on the lounge opposite her, and snapped his finger to one of the slaves.
    “We are ready,” he said.
    Immediately the food arrived via the slaves and kitchen servants, and a feast was laid on the table before them. Roast duck, figs, olives, cheese and bread, and plenty of fish sauce to enhance the food. And of course, lots of wine made with grapes grown by Brutus himself.
    Brutus motioned to Annia. “Where is my wife?”
    Annia’s gaze remained on the floor. “She asked me to offer her regrets, but she is not well.”
    Helena noted how Gordian slumped slightly, a shadow falling on his dark eyes. His own mother had refused to attend his farewell dinner.
    Brutus stood abruptly, startling Helena.
    “Bring her down! She can rot away on her own time, but today she will be part of this family!”
    Annia bowed and quickly left the room. Helena wondered how long it would take for her mother to make an appearance, but she had no doubt that she would show. Brutus was pater familia after all.
    Brutus returned to his meal, engaging the boys in conversations of business and gossip at the senate.
    Felicity brought in a dish of rice sweetened with prunes. Helena avoided her eyes, still embarrassed that Felicity knew about her private meetings with Lucius and wondered if Lucius confided in her as a friend. How much did she know?
    Did she know about the kiss?
    Though she refrained from watching her slave, she noticed that Gordian had no qualms. His eyes followed her as she moved through the room and back to the kitchen.
    Anger rushed through her, eclipsing her fear. Then it turned into something else. Hatred? Could she really hate her own brother?
    Virina finally arrived on the arm of Annia.
    “Mother,” Cassius said, standing. “Let me help you.”
    Her mother looked gaunt, Helena thought, but not so unwell that she couldn’t attend to the family.
    Helena offered her a sprig of grapes. “Here, Mother, you must eat.”
    Virina accepted the fruit but remained silent. Helena couldn’t miss the look of contempt Gordian threw his mother’s way.
    What had happened to this family? Helena thought. She remembered days when she was a child, running through the atrium, laughing and playing games with her older brothers. Father would pretend to scold them and then close his office door, and though Mother would leave them in the care of their nanny, she still gave instruction and oversight to the household staff.
    It seemed like just yesterday Gordian and Cassius were baby-faced and mischievous. Now they had sharp jaw-lines and straight noses. And though both towered over her in height, Gordian’s stint in the army had